The Feud of Falador
by Dracobolt
Summary: A long time ago, the Black Knights and the White Knights fought for dominance of Falador. This is the story of that battle between good and evil. [Oneshot]


A/N: This is my first piece of fanfiction. Constructive criticism is welcome, as is mindless praise, though I'd prefer the former. No flames, though. This is a short story that I made up. It is only going to be one chapter long.

Disclaimer: RuneScape is property of Jagex.

The Feud of Falador

- - - -

Many, many years ago, two brothers lived in Falador. Ryden was a strong, fair haired lad with an ever present smile. His brother, Bronden, was tall, dark, handsome, and brooding. As long as he could remember, Bronden had been in his elder brother's shadow. To his credit, Ryden always made an effort to include his brother, but as the heir there were special honors bestowed on him alone.

All of this tension between the brothers culminated when Aldren, their father, took the boys to the White Knight's Castle to become squires. The current leader of the knights admitted Ryden, but turned down Bronden.

"He does not have the temperament to be a peaceful knight like us," the leader told them. Ashamed, Aldren disowned his youngest son then and there.

Bronden ran home, packed his possessions, and headed north. Ryden was trained to be a knight and eventually became the leader of the knights. The news spread throughout Asgarnia, eventually reaching a sinister figure in black armor.

- - - -

Bronden threw his goblet of wine at the messenger. The poor man ducked, just barely avoiding the missile.

"Curse you, Ryden. Eldest son, everyone's favorite. Soon, I'll have my revenge and Falador will be mine! Jerad, have all the men assemble in the grand hall. I will be down shortly."

Soon, all of the black knights of Bronden were assembled as he had ordered. Their leader stood silently a minute, taking them all in before speaking.

"When you signed on with me, you expected as much gold as you could plunder, as much wine as you could drink, and, most importantly, power. Now is our chance to gain power like you've never dreamed of." He paused, letting it sink in. "Now is our chance to conquer Falador. And, once we do that, mayhaps the rest of the world!" They cheered, roaring loudly. "All right, commanders, come with me. We have to plan."

- - - -

One bright summer day shortly after, Ryden and a score of his best men were returning to Falador from the Barbarian Village after quashing a small uprising that threatened Varrock. Upon their return, they were shocked to find the town in ruin. Building were burning and corpses littered the street. The knights hastened to their fortress. When they arrived, their hearts sank. The White Knight's Castle, citadel of good, had fallen.

"Pssst!" A voice hissed from behind a building. "Sir Ryden! This way!" It was one of Ryden's friends, Sir Mikal. The group followed Mikal to what is now known as the abandoned castle. At that time, it was where visiting knights would stay. It was also where the remaining white knights had taken refuge.

"Who did this?" asked Ryden once they arrived.

"We don't know, but they were in all black armor. Who could they be, though? No known group of rogues fit this description." Ryden was troubled. A thought was forming in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away. It couldn't be.

"All right men. We've got to make a plan. We've got the advantage of knowing the castle's secrets. There is a ladder in the cellar of this castle that goes to a hidden trapdoor in the main castle. I'll take 10 men and go that way. Mikal, you take the rest of the men and distract them."

That night, under the cover of darkness, Ryden and his men crept through the secret passage until they reached the trapdoor. They emerged cautiously. The men crept through the castle killing anyone who challenged them, making their way towards the tower room that had been Ryden's. They all agreed that would be the most likely place for the leader of the villains to hide.

The men climbed the last ladder with relief. Only a corridor separated them from the leader of the black knights. Without warning, a group of the rogues ambushed them from behind. There were at least 20 of the villains.

As they fought with the enemies, one of the other knights said to Ryden, "Go on and slay the leader. We'll keep this scum busy." Though he hated to leave his men in such a predicament, Ryden saw the sense of the suggestion. He dashed down the corridor and into what had once been his chamber.

"So, you've made it." The voice sounded strangely familiar.

"What are you talking about?"

"What, you don't recognize your own brother?" Ryden groaned inwardly. He had been hoping it wasn't true.

"Bronden, please, call off your men. I don't want to fight you."

Bronden lunged at his brother, swinging a black two-handed sword. Ryden parried the blow, but made no attack of his own. At this, Bronden grew angry.

"Attack me already, you coward! I don't want your pity!" His blows grew harder and faster. Ryden had no choice but to fight back. When he wanted to be, he was a formidable fighter. Slowly, he overpowered Bronden and pinned him to the wall, immobilizing him.

"Give up, please, Bronden," he pleaded.

"Never!" Bronden cried. In one swift movement, he grabbed a black dagger from his waist and stabbed his brother and then killed himself. Ryden slumped to the ground, partly from pain, but mostly from shock. He passed out.

- - - -

When Ryden awoke, Mikal was sitting next to his bed. "Where am I?" he groaned. Mikal grinned.

"You're in your own bed, in the castle. Are you feeling up to some walking? The king of Varrock sent over a caravan of food for a feast in your honor."

"What happened since that night?"

"Well, my troops finally broke into the castle after a half our of fighting. We battled our way up to the top floor, right outside your chamber. When we got there, we found 4 men desperately fending off about 11 of the black knights. Our arrival turned the tide of that battle. After that, we came in here, only to find you unconscious on the floor with a stab wound in the shoulder and the

leader of the black knights dead on the floor."

"Did we lose any men?"

"Yes, a good 20. There will be a memorial ceremony soon, now that you are well." Ryden slowly rose from the bed. He moved his right arm experimentally.

"Oooh, that's painful. It seems my days as a knight are over."

"What will you do now?"

"I don't know. Probably become a monk or something," he joked.

- - - -

Though Bronden was slain that night, many of his men escaped back to their fortress. From then on, every so often the black knights would make an attempt on the white knights. Let us hope they never succeed.


End file.
